Witches Make Good Wives
by Shrubbery of Doom
Summary: Some time before Kate and Marak there was this craze with burning people as witches. Witches just might make good goblin wives.....
1. Chapter 1

"Witch! Witch! Witch!" A crowd had gathered around a small shack on the outskirts of town. They were angry, and strangely…..happy. Yes, happy. The fire they brandished flickered, throwing their faces into eerie masks, making them looking like the demon they accused her of being. Marian kept her swimming eyes to the ground. What had she ever done?

The group that had come to fetch her lead to the town square, pinching and tripping her. She would not cry. She_ would _not cry. Yet, despite the words she was whispering to herself, she felt one tear make its slow way down her cheek. Her matted red hair fell down to hide her face, as well as her black eyes. Unfortunately, it also revealed her pointed ears. The feature that labeled her a "demon". She sniffed. It would not do to stare at the ground. If she was going to die tonight, she would have some _fun_. So, she lifted her gaze, and stared at the magistrate with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.

"Look at her! So bold! I bet she hates us all."

"Well, she's the one who gave my poor son colic. Serves her right to burn!"

The crowd continued to mutter, glare, and shout things at her. The magistrate gulped as her gaze suddenly filled with hate. "You killed my cat. My friend. You should burn." She murmured the words soft enough for only her to hear, but the magistrate did not hesitate to press his advantage.

"She's bewitching me! Cover her face, so she will be unable to cast her wicked spells!" The magistrate screamed, spittle flying from his mouth, his face red. Marian felt hands roughly shove a hood on her. Marian hated the lot of them. "If I could cast spells, I would have you lot groveling for mercy." Her voice came out as a snarl, and she heard more shouting, more likely exclaiming at what she said.

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"Your Majesty, this is silly. She could just be another one of those they don't like, so they burn her. Why do you care?" Several goblins sat on their horses, their unique features hooded. The one who spoke addressed "Your Majesty" with respect. "You can not deny that they are growing curious with you repeated involvement, Marak."

"I would think less of them if they didn't question my motives. However, if they try and burn a girl, they hardly want her. I can take her, give her shelter, and make stronger goblins because of it. Now you see why I do this, Oren." Marak continued to stare as they forced the poor girl onto the pyre.

Oren sighed, and then shrugged his shoulders. "You never listen to me. Why should you start now?" He said in a rather self pitying tone.

"Indeed. Why should I listen to you? I would like to point out that I am a bachelor, and that the girl they think they are going to burn is at least three quarters elfin. Thus, it saves me the task of raiding an elf camp for a good wife." Marak grinned as he nudged his horse into a trot. The others of his company followed, pleased with the outcome of the evening.

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Marian felt the hood get yanked off of her. The barman was climbing off, hood in hand. Marian sneered. He was _scared_ of her. How perfectly…..idiotic. What could she do to hurt any of them trapped on this pyre? They appeared to think she could do a lot. The magistrate took out a cross, and dangled it in front of her. She blinked, once.

"Do you want me to start cowering in pain? Should I wail a bit?" Marian challenged.

The man's face grew ugly. "Do not mock me!"

Marian laughed. "Mock you? I damn you!" But she was cut off by the sound of horse hooves on cobblestones.

A group of riders on horses were coming up the way. They rode well, and looked like gentry. Some of them were looking at her. Marian could feel their eyes, and she didn't like their attention. Rather than look at the people who appeared to want to watch her die, she turned her head up to look at the stars. They twinkled at her, cheering her slightly before a hood was put on her again.

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"Why have you hooded her, James?" Marak asked, trying to keep the satisfaction out of his voice. An elfin bride, ripe for the picking! He looked at her happily as a man hooded her, blocking her view of the stars.

'Things of her type are known for their wickedness. Can't have the demon working evil magic on us!" The magistrate, now called James, said with a bow.

Marak thought for a few seconds. How was he supposed to get her away? Marak carefully arranged his words before speaking. "I will take her. That way you don't have to deal with her magic. I have met her kind before, and know what to do with them." There, he hadn't lied at all!

"You're met them before?" James spluttered as Marak nodded. "Put her behind me. Keep the hood on, and I will deal with her." Marak crooned, as he worked some light magic, making it all sound like a good idea. James nodded, and a man smelling of too much ale put the girl, arms and legs still tied, behind him.

Marak nodded once, and clucked his horse into a trot once more.

((And thus it begins!))


	2. Chapter 2

Marian felt herself being lifted off the pyre, and dumped on one of the rider's horses. To be specific, on one of the rider's horse's rump. Talk about embarrassing, thought Marian as she rolled her eyes. I guess it's a good thing that they put the hood on though. Nobody can see how red my face is getting.

When the rider jostled his horse into a trot, Marian made a mental note to spit in his face when they stopped. Bounced up and down with her hands tied behind her back was not exactly a walk anywhere. So, after about 10 minutes of being bumped around, almost falling off twice, and hearing the rider snicker both times, Marian was extremely happy when they stopped. The horses halted, and Marian heard the riders dismount and start to talk to one another in a strange flowing language. She stayed on the horse though. After a few minutes of careful planning, she slipped off backwards. She never hit the ground.

"Come now. None of that. Can't have a bruised bride, can we?" Marian recognized the speaker as the Marak the magistrate was talking to with such respect. Marian froze. He was carrying her. His boots crunched on rocks, and Marian heard the ripple of water on the shore. She started to fight his grip. Marak just held tighter, and his feet left the waterside. "Don't you want to wash, or do something like that?" His voice held some kind of wonder.

She didn't answer, just fought harder. Marak sighed, and brought her back to the tree where the horses were. He untied her hands, then tied them again, only this time in front of her.

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"Was that really necessary? Retying her hands?" Oren asked when Marak joined them. "She should be grateful enough that you saved her. She wouldn't run, would she?"

Marak shrugged. "I don't even have the heart to tease her. I took her down over to the water to see if she would like to wash up, or have a drink. Do you know what she did? Froze like a deer, then started to fight. When I asked her if she wanted to do what I mentioned, she just fought harder. What did I do?" Marak looked at his companions. Finally, Garon, a normal enough looking goblin with rams' horns, spoke up. "Your Majesty, when we rescued the girl you spoke of "dealing" with her. I think that she believes that you mean to kill her. She might of thought you wanted to throw her into the water."

Marak sighed, and looked over at his bride. She was shivering with cold. No wonder. She only wore a patched tunic. "We need to go back home. She's shivering, and I want her to see that she will be safe." Marak took off his cloak, and approached the girl. She heard his footsteps, and inched back. "Shhh…" Marak whispered as he untied her feet. She responded by kicking him in the face. Marak winced at the pain, then sighed again as she tried to run away. "You'll hurt yourself, stumbling through the woods blind like that." A dry sob was his answer. When he tried to reach for her, she tried to bite his fingers. "Well then, that's gratitude for you." Her tied hands balled into fists. Marak knew that she would hurt someone if she kept up, so with another sigh of regret, he blew on her heart. She went limp, and he caught her before she could hit the ground again. This time, she began to sob in earnest.

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Marian's efforts to stop crying were useless. She just couldn't hold the tears back. It was like trying to hold back the flood with only a small twig. The only thing she could see was the inside of the sack, but she did feel the cold when it bit her like a pack of dogs. There was hardly any wind, but she shivered. When she heard someone stepping towards her, she tried again. Murmuring words, then being unable to move at all. Marian started to cry even more.

"What did you do to me?" She choked out between sobs. She fought whatever was being done to her. It was useless; she was stuck unable to move with people who wanted to kill her.

"Are you cold?" Instead of answering her question, her captor asked something totally out of the blue. She glared at him before answering, "Yes, I am. Why does it matter t—" She was cut off by a cloak being settled around her shoulders. She blinked in wonder, and moved her fingers to feel it. Then she noticed two things; One, she could move and two, the cloak was soft and comforting.

"Can I have the hood taken off please?" Marian asked. Maybe manners could get her out.

"Eh…." Her captor (though she thought of him more of a rescuer by now) seemed strangely loathe to remove the sack covering her face. "Wait until we get on the horse."

She heard rustling cloth, then felt the ropes around her feet being taken off. She wanted to rub the spots where they were, but she needed to let them think she was still under whatever "spell" they had put her under. So, she remained still when whoever it was wrapped the cloak around her more, and lifted her. She felt the warmth of a horse beneath her, but this time she was upright, with arms holding her from behind.

"How about now?"

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Marak looked at the elf he had in front of him with faint surprise. "You're persistent." Silence from his wife-to-be. "Fine. You win this time." Marak lifted the sack, and put it in a pocket. She was everything he could have dreamed of. Fiery red hair, pale lily-soft skin, and to cap it all of, she had black eyes. Marak traced one of the tracks of her tears with a black finger.

"You're finger is black, kind of like night sky." His elf remarked, her voice wary with a slight bit of fear in it.

Marak laughed then, and was rewarded with a slight frown from the girl in his arms. "Well, my name is Marak Ebonyskin." He snickered at her thoughtful expression. "Well, my name is Marian." She said, doing her best to act limp in his arms.

They rode in silence before Marak gave into the considerable temptation and said "You can stop acting limp now. It's getting hard to make sure you don't fall off." Marian looked up at him in astonishment, and then gave a small "eep".

"You have black skin. And yellow eyes. And snow white hair. What are you?" He heard her question him, and decided it wouldn't hurt to answer with the whole truth. "I am a Goblin King, and you are going to be my wife."

"Oh."

Marak could hardly believe what she said next.

"What's a goblin?"


	3. AN

((First off, I'm sorry I haven't updated the story in a while. We (My family and I) have just moved, so things are chaotic. I just want to say that Clare B. Dunkle made the universe/world this is in, but the wife and this Marak are mine. So are his advisers and the village. I'm sure you can pick out what is mine, and what is hers. I want to say thank you to Lillian C1 for my first ever review. Sorry I was so late with the disclaimer. Next part of the story!

PS.

I know Marak looks like a drow with yellow eyes. He's supposed to. I didn't make up the whole drow race either.))


	4. Chapter 3

"What's a goblin?" Marak repeated her, his tone betraying his wonder at her not knowing what every other child seemed to know. "You have no idea what a goblin is?"

Marian looked a little miffed at what he said. Her mouth settled into a stubborn line, and she said. "Yes, I have no clue what a goblin is. Is that a problem?"

Marak looked at her, and decided that ignoring the question would be better than saying yes, it was indeed a problem. A big problem, which he would have to amend. "A goblin is a race of the First Fathers. There are two. The goblins," Marak gestured to himself, and his advisors "and the elves. Pansy pretty boys the lot of them. Only good for being pretty." He continued to talk about the elves faults until he realized it would probably be a bad thing to keep debasing his bride's people. "Of course, you know about elves."

This only made her mad. "No, I don't know about elves. I don't know about goblins. I don't know a single cursed thing! Nothing! If you wanted to talk with someone, go talk with a person who isn't a half-wit. Who isn't an idiot. Who actually knows what you're talking about!"

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Marian was pleased to note that Marak looked slightly stunned. Then a look of amusement passed his dark skin, and his cat eyes glittered. "I could hardly call you a half wit, my dear. Think of how bad it would be to start off a wedding. It might even" he mocked a gasp "make you angry!" Marian got madder when he started to laugh. Then reality sunk in. Marry? She wasn't ready! She didn't know him, or anyone else! She began to fight like a wildcat. Marak's response was only to hold on tighter, and try to contain a snicker. He whispered more sing-song words, and she felt herself drifting asleep. She managed to shake it off, and felt the drowsiness fade.

"What did you do to me? Why did you do that? I wasn't doing anything to you!" Marian said with a voice that shook. It was very hard to keep the exhaustion the spell had awakened out of her voice. "You were going to fall of the horse if you keep on doing that, so I had to take steps. Besides, you seemed tired already. Sleep would do you good." Marak finished this, and a laugh tore from his throat as her directed a glare at him. He wiped tears from his face.

Marain elbowed him in the stomach. He stopped chuckling, though his yellow eyes still glittered. "Now, now. That wasn't very nice, was it? I wasn't doing anything to you!" He mimicked her words, and barely managed to not grin. She began to swear like a sailor. Marak covered her hand with his mouth. "Can't have you swearing when you go home, can we?"

((Sorry this chapter is largely uninformative, but something is going to happen soon. I promise!))


End file.
